Author's Note: This story was written before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was released and before JKR revealed that Blaise Zabini is actually male. A revised and edited version of this story was underway when I learned Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince will be released this summer. I've decided to wait until the next book comes out to avoid any further embarassing complications such as writing a male character as female, etc. Further Malfoy torture will commense around August.

In the rewrite Blaise will become Daphne Greenglass, Alan Nott will be Theodore Nott , and they won't be prefects...but they feel they should have been.

"The Quiet Ones"
Chapter One: A Tale of Two Prefects

The professors sometimes puzzled over why the Sorting Hat made Blaise Zabini a Slytherin. She was quiet and studious, did not push Muggle-born students around, insult others, or spout pure-blood philosophy. Among the fifth year girls, Blaise was the early riser and neat nick, her class notes were sorted by subject and in chronological order, and she always handed in her assignments on time.

Without fanfare, Blaise earned the second highest potions mark out of her entire year and the best marks of any Slytherin in just about every other subject. Unlike Draco Malfoy, who crowed about every half decent grade, Blaise hugged the knowledge of her success to her and fought down laughter every time another gloated about a lesser achievement. She prided herself on her icy, unreadable, exterior.

The summer after her fourth year, Blaise discovered she had been made a prefect along with her best friend, stepbrother, and study partner Alan Nott. Together the pair had accumulated reams of information on their classmates and instructors, their real interest in the files was not blackmail but to determine a person's next move. Their favorite game was to call anothers next move and watch the subject act as they predicted.

Upon learning she and Alan had both been made prefects, they spent an idle summer afternoon in the study at the Nott house musing upon the likely reactions of their peers.

Blaise made a list of the other sixth years and considered their reactions.Being made a prefect put the their accomplishments in public view. Though she did not mention it to Alan, she was concerned about backlash against Alan from Draco Malfoy and his friends. It was no secret that the pale-faced Seeker expected to be made a prefect and his reaction to disappointment was not pretty.

"Among the girls, Sally-Ann and I were really the only viable contenders. Pansy and Millicent would never be selected, and they know it. Queenie is only just passing Herbology, Morag is almost as work shy as Pansy, and Tracey's Potions marks are not much better. As for Sally-Anne, my marks are higher." Blaise read from her notes as she flicked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. As it was summer and magic was forbidden, she could not charm her hair into a neat chignon as she did at school and the wispy blond strands kept escaping to tickle the back of her neck.

"Malfoy is expecting to be made a prefect." Alan smirked, imagining the expression on the other boy's face when his letter arrived - sans shiny silver badge. "He kept going on about it all last year. Never occurred to poncy git that he would not be chosen."

Blaise moved on to the boys. "Crabbe and Goyle were not even in the running, Malcolm's interest are music and Quidditch, not academics, though he's quite good at Charms. His marks are adequate, but not spectacular. Spends too much of his study time on his hobbies." Blaise concluded her analysis. "Of course, they didn't expect to be made prefects. The featherheads would die of shock, and Malcolm would hate the responsibility. They'll suppose either you or Malfoy got it. Too bad for Malfoy that prefect's badges are not for sale. He'll whine and pout and blame others."

"At least until Quidditch season rolls around and he resumes his obsession with beating Potter." Alan stated, scribbling onto a scrap of parchment. "Don't worry Blaise, I can handle Draco Malfoy."

Blaise ignored him, a bit annoyed at having been deciphered so easily, and continued on as though Alan had not spoken. "I wonder if he'll see Snape about it. Bet he doesn't know house heads only submit lists of those eligible, the Sorting Hat makes the ultimate decision."

Alan smirked. "Do you think the hat would reconsider making us prefects if it really knew us?"

Blaise snorted. "It had a good look inside our heads first year. That hat sorted Voldemort. I doubt much can shock it."

Malfoy's response to the Sorting Hat's choice was just as Alan and Blaise anticipated.

"They made you two prefects?" Malfoy demanded the first week of school. He had been pacing the common room like a caged lion for several moments before stalking over to the corner Blaise and Alan were using as a study area. Crabbe and Goyle followed a pace behind him in an imitation of the burly bodyguards of some ancient monarch.

"Your powers of perception continue to astound me. Now, sod off." Blaise retorted without bothering to look up at Draco, absently flipping through a book of hexes. She paused and made a pretense of studying a particularly nasty hex while twirling her wand with her right hand. Malfoy did not take the hint and depart.

"Next they'll be making Longbottom Head Boy." Malfoy laughed, his hand on his own wand.

"He wasn't made a prefect this year and I don't see them making an exception for him." Blaise said in her usual academic tone. It unnerved some to hear Blaise discuss things ranging from her family life to advanced Transfiguration theory in the same slightly detached, analytical manner. A smirk not unlike the one usually found on Malfoy's angular face grew as Blaise's eyes dropped to Malfoy's robes. "I don't see a prefect's badge pinned to your robes, unless I missed something. House elves forget to pin it to your chest for you?"

Spots of red grew on Malfoy's face and his reply was short and clipped. "Dumbledore has it in for me."

Blaise bit the inside of her cheek to hide her laughter. Exactly as they called it, sometimes the game was too easy.

"Really?" Alan entered the conversation. "And here I thought it was on account of Blaise's and my marks. Here's a tip Malfoy: books open and contain words that are meant to be read."

"Oh really, I'll make a note of that. I do happen to have the fourth highest potions grade in our year." Malfoy bragged, looking to the two large boys book ending him. They look Malfoy's cue and nodded in agreement.

"Fourth highest potions grade? Really?" Blaise repeated, making her hazel eyes wide. No Slytherin was fooled by her innocent tone. "Well I have the second highest, with Alan in third after me."

"You both beat me?" There was a note of disbelief in Malfoy's voice that made Blaise want to giggle. He sounded like a little boy whose toys were just taken away from him. With a great effort she restrained herself. It would not do to loose her poise in front of Draco Malfoy of all people. She had a reputation for being the Slytherin Ice Queen to maintain, after all.

"Your obsession with Potter hinders you in other areas as well." Alan looked down his nose at the shorter boy. Blaise always thought this was one of her stepbrother's best expressions of distain, with his hawk nose and fierce blue eyes, Alan resembled a nobleman of antiquity – the breed who were required to fight to maintain their position. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to Blaise to be the end product of too much intermarriage and an overlarge reliance on servants. She did not understand what Pansy saw in his pale, angular features, but suspected his galleons heightened his appearance in her beady eyes.

"I am not obsessed with Potter!" Draco snapped back, clenching his jaw in a way he probably thought made him appear older and intimidating, but in reality made him look as though he were in pain.

"You are obsessed with beating him." Blaise clarified for her fellow prefect. "And that is why you never will."

"I will beat him." Malfoy declared before huffing off in the direction of the boy's dormitory, his two goons trailing in his wake. "I'll show him. I'll show everyone."

Blaise shook her head. Malfoy let himself be as pulled around by his emotions as any first year Gryffindor. Didn't anyone ever tell him that rivalries must be pursued with academic detachment and careful planning lest they consume?

Of course it was doubtful he would learn discretion and subtlety from his father. Even many Hufflepuff's believed Malfoy Senior was a Death Eater and that Draco was heading the same way. They had acquired an army of enemies. Sooner or later one would draw blood and the rest would move forward scenting weakness.

"You appear troubled, was Malfoy…?" Alan observed.

"Malfoy is always a complete prat. He is a disgrace to Slytherin." Blaise fumed glancing off in the direction Malfoy had taken off in.

Alan put a comforting hand on Blaise's shoulder. "The poncy git strains my patience too."

"It's not just Malfoy," Blaise told her stepbrother, lowering her voice. "Ever since the Dark Lord, those who got away with being Death Eaters have flaunted their little victory over the Ministry. By and large their children are the same way. Slytherin used to equal subtle, now…"

"Now we are equated with bullies and braggarts."

"No thanks to the brainless wonders of Malfoy's cronies. They cost us more than points. They make us all look bad." Blaise sniffed angrily. It was an old irritation.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy and Parkinson aren't the only ones. Remember Flint? No self control whatsoever. I shudder to think at the damage he did both in points and perception. It used to be a tad bit of rule bending could slip by, now the professions watch us like we are criminally insane."

"The Heir of Slytherin business did not help." Blaise sighed.

"No, it didn't."

"Too bad we can't improve their personalities. Or at the very least their judgment"

"Why don't we?" Alan suggested. His blue eyes danced with excitement.

"Why don't we what?" Blaise demanded.

Alan leaned forward, his voice dropping in volume to a conspiratorial whisper. "Give poncy git and the feather heads a mental makeover."

Blaise considered this for a moment. "How?"